Cain
by Scribble01
Summary: The woman on the bed was missing most of her skin. But it all went away when she saw what Luke was looking at. It was dry with lines of blood trailing the wall down to earth. It wasn't sloppy or curved. It was structured and set. But there was a certain wave characteristic to it. On the wall was: Call Me Cain.
1. Chapter One

Summary:

Percy Jackson is Cain. The worst serial killer New York has seen in years. He can't help it. It's an itch he can't scratch unless he goes after others. It doesn't matter who the person is. All that matters is that they die and the itch goes away. He manages to push it down until it can't go anywhere but up and let's it out in the worse possible manner on any person he can get his hands on- even a petty purse thief. It doesn't help that he develops feelings for the lead detective against 'The Spotless Killer,' a name the media gave him for his lack of evidence.

Annabeth Chase is the lead detective and struggling with the case of the Spotless Killer. He never leaves any evidence but kills in the most vile and torturous ways imaginable. On top of that, she's struggling with a failing romance with her boyfriend and superior, Luke Castellan, and a rising new one with a person she hates: Blood Spatter Analyst, Percy Jackson, who is lazy, late to work almost everyday, and has a fascination with serial killers. Also, she's falling for the Spotless Killer for a reason she doesn't entirely understand.

This is their story.

It was a small house in Midtown, New York. Annabeth Chase stood at the doorway, appalled by the stench emanating from inside. It was the smell of copper and fecal matter. Or in better words: Blood and Shit.

They got the call around three in the afternoon telling them that the Spotless Killer struck again. Twenty-two year old woman murdered in her home in the last day or so. Forensics had just started up their equipment and wanted the cops to take a look around. Annabeth actually didn't want to.

The Spotless Killer was a man (more like monster, Annabeth thought) who killed people in the most horrible and bloodiest ways imaginable. He has raped, tortured, skinned, gutted, dismembered, strangled, suffocated, flayed, and butchered his victims. The only 'spotless' thing about him was that he didn't leave any evidence of himself. No hairs, semen, sweat, anything. He was the worst serial killer New York had seen in years and had murdered over a hundred people in two years since he started killing.

The FBI had sent profiler after profiler to help with the investigation but they could never put a personality to the killer. Some said he was a multiple personality, others that the Spotless Killer was a group, and most said he was just a man, killing because of pleasure.

"Chase!" Her partner yelled at her from inside the house. "You might want to see this!" Her partner was her boyfriend, Luke Castellan. Tall, short blond hair, blue eyes, and a scar that slid down his face. He'd gotten it from a dick with a knife who was trying to steal his briefcase. The fucker was locked up but Luke had to go to the hospital so he didn't lose his eye.

Yellow cones with numbers on them were everywhere. They stayed with the pieces of flesh and cartilage of the woman's body as though they were a protective cone. A marker to tell Annabeth where to step and where to avoid. A marker to tell the CSI guys where to put her in sandwich bags.

Annabeth took a deep breath and entered the house. It was small and quaint, the furniture soaked and caked with blood. A breast was hanging off the couch cushion and a tongue was hanging on the string of the fan in the living room. An eye was in the corner and blood led down the hallway to the bedroom and bathroom.

"Luke's in the bedroom," one of the officers near her told her. His name was Beckandorf. He was a large black man with muscles and an accent. He had been on the force a little bit shorter than Annabeth but he denied promotions or job offers. Charles Beckandorf seemed happy where he was.

Annabeth nodded her appreciation and followed the trail of blood. The bathroom door was open and she took a peak. She wished she hadn't. Hanging on the towel hanger was bloodied skin. Blood dripped off of it and it was starting to crack and flake.

She hurried to the bedroom to meet Luke. He was standing there, looking at something she couldn't see. Annabeth noticed the way he stood: rigid. As though he couldn't move. The woman on the bed was missing most of her skin. Her entire torso was skinned and her dead eyes were missing, only leaving behind dark sockets.

It all went away when she saw what Luke was looking at. It was dry with lines of blood trailing the wall down to earth. It wasn't sloppy or curved. It was structured and set. But there was a certain wave characteristic to it.

On the wall, written in blood was: CALL ME CAIN.

Line Break 1

Percy Jackson ran to the house in Midtown. He was so late. If he didn't get chewed out by Chase, it would be a miracle. Though, what did she expect? It was rush hour in New York and it took so long to get a taxi. Eventually he managed to hail one down and gave him enough cash to get him at least most of the way there.

The house wasn't that hard to find; he'd been there before. Last night, actually. Percy tightened his hand into a fist at the memory. Why did he have to do that? Why so soon? The last body he left was two days ago so he should've been good for at least a week. Why did the Itch come back early?

Percy tried not to think about what he'd done the night before. The way the woman felt... He shook himself out of it as he ran up the steps to the house. 'Jesus fucking Christ,' he thought as he walked into the open doorway. Blood was everywhere. He didn't remember there being this much blood.

But then again, he didn't always remain conscious when he was murdering people. He always got dreams. Ones that turned him on. Ones that he knew weren't just dreams but memories from when he blacked out.

Why did he have to be like this?

"Hey Beckandorf," Percy greeted as he stepped around the ear that was lying in his way. Percy didn't bother with the living room; he knew what was there by the memories over the night. Instead, he headed to the kitchen where everything was a little hazy.

Beckandorf followed him into the kitchen. "You wouldn't believe what happened," Beckandorf said to the serial killer. "There was a message from the Spotless Killer."

If Percy had a drink, he'd have done a spit take. He definitely didn't remember writing a message. "What did it say?" He managed to ask. Percy tried not to act interested and looked around the kitchen. It was pretty clean. Only a few drops of blood were around and an extra eye was on top of the counter. It was practically clean.

Percy opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer. He had taken plenty the night before. After he killed the girl- Miranda- and played with her body a few times, he came into the kitchen and drank a couple beers, went and left after making sure he hadn't left any evidence.

The Spotless Killer. It was the name the media had given him. It wasn't like he'd meant to not leave evidence. It just sort of happens. He finds anything that involves his DNA and destroys it. It's like he knows everything he's ever left behind.

"'CALL ME CAIN'," Beckandorf whispers to him. He grins a pearly white grin that could actually glow in the dark. His hair was buzzed and nearly shaven. He was a muscular man who had a crush on the station's receptionist. A blond beauty named Silena Beauregard.

"What?" Percy asked, opening the bottle and taking a sip.

"That's what the message said," Beckandorf explained. "'CALL ME CAIN.' Written in the blood of the girl."

It suddenly came back to Percy. Everything that Percy didn't remember came back like a truck. He'd gotten the girl's case file from Grover- one of the only two who knew what he does- and had went to the girl's house in a hurry. He'd barged in through the front door after he'd knocked and she opened. Dragging the girl by the throat into the living room. Using chains. A screwdriver.

Percy repressed a shiver. He felt himself growing hard and quickly put a stop to it. He thought about what would happen if he got caught. The press that he'd get. What his mom would look like and say...

"Perce?" Percy snapped his head up to meet Beckandorf's eyes. They were scrunched in confusion, looking at him with deep brown eyes. "You okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine," Percy said uneasily. "Where's Chase and why is she not ripping me a new one?"

"Staring at the message," he replied. "She and Castellan are in the bedroom."

Percy nodded and headed to the bedroom, ignoring the smells and visuals that reminded him that he was less than human. The hallway was a little more bloody than the living room, pools seeming to deepen into the wood.

The bedroom door was open and there stood Chase and Castellan, staring at the message that was written in the blood of the flayed woman Percy had enjoyed twelve hours ago. Annabeth Chase and Luke Castellan were the best two detectives on the force of the 11th precinct of the New York.

Detective Annabeth Chase was a girl around two inches shorter than Percy. She had honey blond hair that ran down her shoulders in princess curls. She usually wore this orange t-shirt with faded words on it and these jeans that looked so faded; like they'd been used for years. Annabeth had put her hair in a pony tail, as usual.

Sergeant Luke Castellan was sort of the opposite of Percy. Instead of raven black hair, he had sunshine blond. Instead of long that flew into his eyes, he had short cropped hair. Luke had sky blew eyes instead of Percy's sea green. He wore his usual leather jacket and jeans with a white t-shirt.

They were staring at the dry message on the wall. Percy remembered putting it there. The girl had died and Percy had drank a few bottled beers from the fridge. He got the idea of changing his name from Grover. He kept saying that the Spotless Killer was a mouthful. That's when he came up with he name Cain. The world's first killer. One no one could kill because God ordered them not to. There were some beliefs that he died and others that he just keeps wandering the world, trying to get his instincts under control.

Much like Percy himself.

Percy knocked lightly on the door. They whipped around to him, their hands on the butts of their guns. Percy felt very welcome, needless to say. He stopped the barrage of images of him smashing and chopping the two detectives to pieces. Beckandorf's in the next room... No, he couldn't do that. People would start looking. Harder than they had before.

"Easy guys," Percy said putting his hands in the air. He couldn't help but smirk. He found it... invigorating, to think that the police who've been chasing him for two years couldn't figure out that he was right there.

They relaxed, though Chase did so reluctantly. She never liked him. He was late to work (cleaning up the blood from his clothes and body), he was sarcastic (better than skinning her), and he was really good at his job (and no one can upstage Annabeth Chase).

"Sorry Perce," Luke said as he breathed a sigh. He waved off the open beer Percy gestured to him. Percy shrugged and took another gulp of the beer. It tasted weird.

"It's okay," Percy told him. "Don't worry about it. Anybody would be jumpy if the Spotless Killer sent them a message."

"Beckandorf?" Percy didn't answer.

"Where did you get that?" Chase asked. He rose an eyebrow and she pointed to the beer in his hand.

Percy shrugged. "The fridge," he replied. Luke stared at him with a weird look on his face and Chase looked absolutely appalled. "What?"

"You took a dead woman's beer?" Luke asked. Percy shrugged again. "And you're drinking it here?"

"It's still good," Percy replied. His sea green eyes glinted and Annabeth nearly lost it.

"You are drinking a woman's beer while she lies dead, skinned and mutilated on her bed!" Annabeth yelled. Her gray eyes flashed in a stormy way and she stomped towards him. She snatched the bottle from his hand. "How can you even drink this here?"

"I gulp it down."

"Oh ha ha ha," She yelled. "Just work the crime scene and get the CSU guys in here." Percy shrugged and left, trying not to laugh at the face she was making. He almost went back to Beckandorf when he remembered something.

Percy popped back in the doorway, making Luke and Annabeth turned back to him. "Can I have my beer back?" Her look nearly made him laugh out loud.

Line Break 2

The Spotless Killer's message spread like wild fire. Cops were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Percy grinned wider from inside his lab. There was a certain scent to it; the air. It was high with tension and a musky 'Oh my god what the hell are we going to do?' aroma.

It was addicting.

Percy could see the detectives and cops and the Lieutenant talking in the main room. There was a slide show showing the message as Lieutenant Brunner talked to his fellow cops. 'CALL ME CAIN'. Percy watched as Brunner listened to Chase and Luke give their verbal report in front of everyone. He stood, wanting to hear what they were saying. Stepping out of his lab and closer to the group.

"-a message that doesn't make any sense," Luke was saying.

"It's pretty obvious what the message means," Annabeth argued. "He's getting cocky. For two years he's been the silent BoogeyMan that no one could see or touch. Now that he got cocky, that makes him human. And humans make mistakes. We can catch him if he continues on this type of path."

"But 'Call me Cain'?" Luke said. "That's the first message he sends? Did he get tired of the name the press gave him two years ago? Bored? Why 'Cain'?"

"Cain was the first murderer in the Bible," Percy spoke. He knew it was dangerous to interrupt the two's verbal tennis match but it needed to be said. "Cain killed his brother, Abel, in jealousy and God gave Cain a mark. This mark was to signify that anyone who killed Cain would suffer seven fold that of Cain. Cain was also given immortality."

Everyone stared at him and he looked to the ground. Attention, attention. May I have your attention. He didn't want it; that was something for the Spotless Killer to deal with. Here, at the station, he was just Percy Jackson, Blood Spatter Analyst.

At least until the itch came back.

Yet they were the same person. The Spotless Killer and Percy. They had the same satisfaction in watching the police scramble around for someone right under their nose. They had the same anger which gets so hard to control the longer he goes with out scratching their Itch; the irritation that comes with it. And the peace that's given to them when he kills. When the itch is scratched.

Percy turned and walked back to his lab, ignoring the stares from the officers and homicide detectives. He felt himself grin. Something inside him relished in their attention. A darkness that seemed to want out, earlier and earlier. It never stops screaming unless it gets what it wants.

But for now... For now it was quiet. The peace that settled over Percy when he finished with Miranda's body was still there. It made him lax and easy. He felt like sleeping. Like he could sleep without any of the dreams the darkness gives to him.

He should probably get a case file from Grover down in Records. Percy's best friend. Percy didn't understand why Grover would still be friends with him. Percy was a killer- a monster- and the entire city of New York was on his tail. It was surprising the FBI hadn't caught him yet, but with the all the profilers getting his personality wrong, NYPD probably thought they could catch the Spotless Killer without their help.

"I need everyone's attention," Brunner called out. Percy turned, a little happy the cops weren't looking at him. "The FBI is sending another profiler." There were groans and protests to meet this statement. "The Director of the FBI swears on his job that she's good. She's caught every baddie that she's been assigned for the last three years."

"Then why didn't they send her to us?" Chase asked. Percy noted the way she cocked her hip and put a hand on it. She looked... appetizing.

'No!' Percy reprimanded his darkness. 'Cop, remember? No cops. Kill a cop and you'll be expected to help catch yourself with new vigor in your heart. That's a no no.'

"They thought the Spotless Killer would have been caught by now," the Lieutenant replied. "Serial killers are usually caught within the first few years and they don't kill as often as The Spotless Killer does. Especially when they don't move around. Now that we've reached victim two-oh-eight, the FBI want this to end. The Spotless Killer has just achieved Wanted #1 on the FBI's most wanted."

Percy almost smiled but then Brunner's eyes turned to him. His eyes had always seemed thousands of years old; like he'd seen everything there is to see. He'd fought in Afghanistan and Iran, then he retired an became the Lieutenant of the 11th precinct. Brunner could have become Captain but he said no. "Want to be closer to my officers," he had said.

'How close are we Lieutenant?' Percy thought.

The Itch was back again and the screaming had started. It wanted blood. But Percy had a few weeks. He could push it back. Just a few weeks...


	2. Chapter Two

The closet was her space. Their space, really. Where no one could touch them except each other. Detective Annabeth Chase and Sergeant Luke Castellan ripped the other's clothes off in the small space that was close quartered and at risk of someone catching them.

But these moments were scarce and Annabeth wasn't going to let anyone interrupt. She'd felt it, his pulling away. She'd been in love with Sergeant Castellan for nearly five years, ever since she saw him when she was an officer just starting out in the 11th precinct.

Annabeth pulled her boss's shirt off, running her hands down his six pack. His skin was pale and tough, like leather. His muscles tightened as he continued to assault her lips with his own. It was leaving her breathless and hungry for more. For his cock to be in her.

Her shirt was off next, her pony tail was loose, and her jeans were unbuttoned. Luke's hand was down her pants and grazing her panties. She nearly moaned out loud. She was about to. Then the door opened.

The two leapt from each other, nearly knocking down the stacks of supplies that were around them. Light crept into the small room, making the scar on Luke's face look evil. But then it was gone.

Her attention turned to the interrupter and she nearly had a fit. Percy Jackson stood in the doorway with a stoic face and dead eyes. He had started looking bad a couple of weeks ago, a week after the Lieutenant had announced that the FBI were sending another profiler. She hadn't arrived yet but they did get a name: Alecto Dodds.

Annabeth wasn't that worried about Jackson. It was his routine. He'd light up at another crime scene of the Spotless Killer and then as the weeks wore on, he'd start going downhill. Then another murder would bring him back to full health again. The weeks varied.

"Hand me the fucking swabs." Even his voice was strained. Like he hadn't used it in a while. Or had used it too much. Luke did so without hesitation. It was odd to see Luke answering to someone below him- much less a Lab Geek like Jackson. Annabeth thought they were at least friends.

Jackson stood there for a second then shook his head. He caught Annabeth's stare and snapped a strangled, "What?"

"You mind?" She asked snobbishly. Jackson didn't react. Annabeth's eyebrows raised, shocked that Jackson didn't show any emotion. He hadn't been this bad in a couple months. It was like any emotion but irritation and anger drained out of him.

"Blow me," he said shortly. Before she could say anything he was gone, his footsteps were non-existent. Annabeth stared at the closing door. Perseus Jackson, Blood Spatter Analyst... That's all she knew. Everything she knew about Jackson was his name and his job.

And she was fine with that.

She turned her attention to her boss who was staring at her with the same look she'd seen hundreds of times. She smiled a sultry smile as he dipped his hand into her pants again and began to kiss her neck.

All thoughts of Perseus "Percy" Jackson was put out of her mind as Luke demonstrated his talents.

LineBreak 1

Percy Jackson wasn't doing so good. It's been a few weeks. Four to be exact. Four weeks of arousing, bloody, and gruesome dreams. Of screaming instincts, fantasies, and voices, all urging the slaughter of people on the street and his fellow law enforcement.

Percy knew he was getting bad. He knew when he imagined Grover on the end of his combat knife. When he imagines his cousin, Nico DiAngelo bludgeoned at his feet. Nico was the only other person who knew of Percy's darkness. Of the Itch and the screaming inside his head.

He needed to kill and he needed it now.

But it was broad daylight. He couldn't kill yet. That and he didn't have a prospect. Prospects were important. They mapped a serial killers M.O. Mapped targets that could predict a serial killer's next move. Unfortunately, Percy didn't have targets- specific targets, anyway. If they were human, they were a target.

Percy had always tried to keep targets. Specific targets. Criminals that were lost on the radar of the NYPD or ones that weren't caught. Destructive murderers to petty purse thieves. Sometimes it was just a civilian that got in his way. Such was the case of his last victim, Miranda. The only reason she had a case file was because she had a parking ticket five years ago. She was just unlucky.

Percy sat at his lab table, watching the news. Lieutenant Brunner was making the announcement he should have made two to three weeks ago. That the Spotless Killer left a message.

"Sir? There are reports that the Spotless Killer left a message at Miranda Scott's house- the latestvictim of the Spotless Killer," the channel Four news lady said. Percy shook his head, trying to get away from the thoughts that invaded his mind. He could last... He could last just a little bit longer...

"Yes, the Spotless Killer did,in fact, leave a message at the last crime scene," Brunner replied. "The message was painted on the wall of Ms. Scott's house,above her body. These pictures are graphic and I advise any person without a strong stomach or kids under eighteen to look away."

Pictures flashed across the screen of the HDTV. All were crime scene pictures, getting every angle of the message. 'Call Me Cain.' Percy's hand twitched. The memory was resurfacing and Percy really didn't need the Itch to remind him that he needed to kill soon.

No, NOW!

Percy stood up, almost making his silver metal stool clatter to the floor. He couldn't wait until nighttime. He needed this. And he could probably do it, given everything his father taught him. His father, Poseidon Atlanta, is a Navy SEAL. One of the best. Poseidon is an Admiral Chief of Naval Operations. He'd spent more than twenty years in the field, becoming one of the best soldiers the U.S had ever seen. Percy only met him five times since he was twelve. He's twenty four now.

Percy walked out of his office, out of Homicide, and out of the NYPD Precinct Eleven. New York was a crowded and restless place. Everyone saw nothing but yet there was always one who saw everything. Percy was that one. The one who noticed how a girl walked with a limp because her boyfriend raped her. The one who noticed how the children of the Big Apple had horrible parents who beat them. The one who noticed the others.

The others- serial killers. The predators that stalked the creatures of the wild that was New York. The competition. The people that Percy knew were better than him but couldn't stop killing them. The murderers, pedophiles, abusers, rapists, and drug dealers. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, citizens of New York, all of them were at Percy's fingertips.

He barely had feelings. The longer he went without killing, the more apathetic he turned. His feelings turned into ghosts, leaving his haunted house until a new body joined the ones underneath his floorboards. When he was a teenager, he killed almost on a daily basis. Animals, of course. He killed for his mother. To let her have the experience of raising a normal teenager.

Then he killed Gabe...

Gabe Ugliano was Percy's stepfather. He was a dick and a drug dealer. He was an abusive fuck too. He hit Percy and Sally, his mother, numerous times. Percy was thirteen when he killed the fucker. A table lamp. That's what Percy used. Over and over again. Percy didn't stop for a full ten minutes. It was a brutality only trained Pit Bulls and German Shepherds had seen.

That was when Percy realized that killing humans felt so much better than killing animals. For the next nine years, he fought every instinct, every dream, every itch, and every voice that haunted him. Every night. For nine fucking years.

Percy was going crazy. He spent nine years trying to suppress instincts that were so violent and natural to him that, eventually he exploded. He had just gotten out of work at a McDonald's- before he became a Blood Spatter Analyst- and was walking next to an alley. A woman was screaming and their were two lowlifes trying to get her jeans down. Percy took his time with them. A knife he kept for skinning animals was embedded in their sternum and used it to skin them.

He almost killed the girl too. But the kills gave him enough control of the Itch to let her go. He killed fifteen more people before the night was over. By the time the sun was rising and showing through the sky scrapers of Manhattan, Percy was covered in blood, intestines, and human skin. Since then, he's been more careful and never went that long from killing again. He would never make that mistake ever again. Ever.

After that night, the police had been chasing the 'Spotless Killer.' Percy took a lot of classes on Forensic Science, Blood Spatter courses, and eventually became Precinct Eleven of the NYPD's Blood Spatter Analyst. He managed to get his degree in a couple months, despite his dyslexia and ADD.

Percy spotted his target. People say there is love at first sight. Percy believes in murder at first sight. That with one look, you can tell if the person is a murderer, if it's right to murder them, and if they have it in them to harm others. The answer is almost always a yes.

Percy followed someone. It was a girl that-

The vibration of his phone stopped him. It felt like a smack in the face. What was he doing? He didn't have anything to kill her with, there were too many witnesses, and it was broad daylight outside. He couldn't do this now. Not yet. Percy rummaged through his pocket and took out his phone.

"What?" He snapped despite his best efforts. The voice on the other end gave out a huff and Percy knew immediately who it was. "Huff all you want. Just spill it, Chase."

"That's 'Detective' to you," she retorted from the other line.

"Do you have anything useful to say that I won't ignore? I'm in the middle of something." Yeah, getting a hammer and smashing some-

"We got a crime scene, genius. Why else would I be calling you?" She did indeed have a point.

"You wanted to talk with my winning personality and hear my voice that haunts your fantasies," he said in a monotone voice. Sarcasm often got the 'Detective' to shut her trap and get to the point. She wasn't really the joking type.

"Just get here," she huffed. "Apt. 28A. 34th and 2nd West. The Spotless Killer struck again."

Line Break 2

Annabeth showed her badge to the officers already on scene and ducked under the tape to get into the tiny apartment. The body hadn't been there for long but it had the Spotless Killer's M.O. all over it. Over her. Blood was splattered around the floor around the couch, making it look like an island with one dead occupant.

She sighed, knowing that she was the one needed to call in Jackson since Luke had not shown up yet. She reached into her NYPD jacket and took out her phone, dialing his number from memory.

"What?" Momentarily put off by his voice, she gave a silent huff. Apparently it wasn't silent as Jackson said, "Huff all you want. Just spill it, Chase."

"That's 'Detective' to you," she replied snobbishly. She didn't like the way he said her name. Like she wasn't worth his time and was only an annoyance he couldn't wait to get rid of. Not that she didn't act the same way towards him but still. She was the detective, he was the geek. He was supposed to think she was hot and cool and awesome.

"Do you have anything useful to say that I won't ignore? I'm in the middle of something." The middle of what? Annabeth thought angrily to herself. What could he be doing that is so goddamn important?

"We got a crime scene, genius. Why else would I be calling you?" Her voice was harsh and challenging. A challenge he met to perfection.

"You wanted to talk with my winning personality and hear my voice that haunts your fantasies." Annabeth had to hold in a snort. She had never thought his personality as 'winning' or that his voice was silky and smooth, having the perfect baritone when he talked. Nope, never. Though one thing she can say and think honestly is that she had never- ever- fantasized about Percy Jackson.

"Just get here," she snapped. His comeback had left her speechless for a millisecond but she quickly regained her composure. "Apt. 28A. 34th and 2nd West. The Spotless Killer struck again." Silence reigned on the other line. "Jackson? Jackson? What the hell are you doing."

"I'll be right there." The line went dead and Annabeth was left holding a phone with a dead line against her ear in the middle of a gruesome crime scene that made her want to throw up. How did she even get there?

Jackson was there in under three minutes. A record when he's usually fifteen minutes late everyday. He was still as horrible as he was earlier that day when she saw him when he opened the closet. Except his eyes looked worried and confused instead of broken and the bags under his eyes looked heavier.

"Move," he told her and she complied, feeling that something was off about this. Everything felt off. Jackson stood in the middle of the room, looking around the room while turning in a circle. His eyes looked everywhere. Taking in every single detail.

Percy's thoughts were screaming at him. This... this wasn't him. The blood was still fresh, dripping from the ceiling and staining the carpet. The indents on what could be seen on the bone came from a hand axe of some sort- he would know after inflicting wounds like that on countless other people. The body's rigor mortise hadn't even set in. But Percy was back at the station when this happened... an hour ago. Maybe two.

Then who did it?

Annabeth watched him as something flashed through his eyes and disappeared. It was here she began to get worried. When a Spotless Killer murder happened, Percy Jackson was usually seemed refreshed and relaxed- even when a murder is called in at three in the morning.

Now though, he looked even worse than he had when she saw him earlier. The bags under his eyes seemed to grow, his cheeks were gaunt and his eyes were a poison green, and his hands twitched violently at his sides until he wrung them together.

"Well?" Annabeth snapped when she finished analyzing him. He whipped to her, his eyes unfocused on anything in the room. "Are you going to do your job or what?"

He stared at her for a second. Then he bolted from the room and sprinted down the hallway, knocking a startled Detective Castellan to the side as he came on the scene.

"What's with him?" Luke questioned Annabeth as she stared after the Geek.

"I have no clue," she answered.

Line Break 3

He would kill him. There was a copycat running around his city, killing his kills, creating a crappy impersonation of Percy to leave behind. Percy would kill him. If it was a him. And if it was... Oh, he was so going to get skinned.

Percy was going to cut the Copy open and tear out his liver, keep him alive, sow it back in, and rip it out again! He was going to cut the fucker open and drench him in fucking whiskey! Stuff the CopyPussy full of goddamn McDonald's French fries and hang him on the golden arches like a fucking piñata to be hit by eleven year olds! He was so going to kill him...

But first, Percy needed to go kill someone else.


	3. Chapter Three

After five more victims and working on his sixth, Percy was interrupted by a call from Grover. Grover Underwood was a cripple who had a muscular disease in his legs that made him use crutches some of the time. He was a severe environmentalist and a vegetarian. Grover was light brown with curly brown hair that was always hidden underneath a rasta cap.

And Grover was the best friend of the worst serial killer New York had ever seen. The best friend understood that Percy had to do what he did. That he had to kill, slaughter, and maime people who didn't even know him. It didn't mean Grover had to enjoy it, though.

"Where are you?" Grover's voice was worried and desperate. Percy looked down at the cooling body he was inside of. The girl was turned face down with her head turned to the side, showing her glassy green eyes and mascara streaked face. Her blond hair was stringy and wet from the blood that came from her neck. Her top was gone and so were her panties, leaving only a knee-length blue skirt. It was what first drew his attention anyways.

"In a diner by thirty-second street," he answered slowly, looking around at the four other bodies that had been in the diner when he came in. It had been painfully easy to take them all down. The girl was the toughest though. She had been harder. She would've screamed if he hadn't socked her in the throat. Then a butter knife was near.

"I'm coming to get you," Grover told him.

"No!" That caused the line to freeze. Percy knew he shouldn't have said anything. Grover hated it when he went out by himself. When he didn't have a target planned out and an actual plan. When he did it to innocent people.

Then again, Percy was in a diner three blocks away from the apartment where the Copy had killed that girl with only a locked door to stop someone from coming inside. The shades were closed, so that blocked out anyone from looking in. Perhaps Percy did need a plan

"Why?" Grover asked. Percy remained silent. "Why should I not come to get you, Percy?" There was a realization in his voice but he still made himself ask the question. "Are you...killing, right now?"

Percy bit his lip, wondering if he should lie to the person who had been his friend since sixth grade. This wasn't his father Poseidon. He couldn't just say 'Cop Business' and that was where the conversation ended. Instead, Percy said,

"I'm doing... Cain Business, yes." Percy heard his best friend gulp and he had to sigh. "I'm sorry," Percy said. There was no use apologizing because it was who he was, but it made him feel as though he had a right to change. Though he never could. And he didn't think he ever would if he could.

"It's... fine," Grover said. They both knew it wasn't. "Just make sure you're by the Alley in half an hour so I can pick you up. Okay?"

"Okay." Silence reigned supreme for a few minutes before Grover said a small 'bye' and hung up. Percy turned his attention to the girl again and frowned. He was flaccid now but that quickly corrected itself when he gripped the butter knife in her throat and ripped more of her open, and watched the blood flow to the floor like a trickling waterfall.

 **Line Break 1**

Nearly an hour later, back at the precinct, Annabeth Chase was fuming. Not only had Luke been late and Jackson had left, but the FBI Profiler had come up out of the blue. And she didn't even look professional!

She was an old lady, most likely in her fifties, who put her hair in a tight bun, had a southern Georgian accent, and wore a black leather jacket. She has hard light brown eyes. She seemed to be more of a strict highschool teacher than a hardcore FBI Profiler.

She was currently talking with the Chief and Luke in the office Dodds was going to use and Annabeth could only watch from her desk. She had been _denied_ the privilege of joining the meeting about the Spotless Killer because she wasn't the lead detective on the case.

It was total bullshit! What the ever loving hell! She had just as much stake on the case as Luke did! Just because she wasn't lead detective didn't mean she has nothing important to say.

The office had its shades up, allowing anyone to see into the rather large office. Annabeth used it to her advantage. Paying close attention, she began to read their lips.

'...the Spotless Killer is upping his game,' Luke was telling her. 'We got a call fifteen minutes ago that another body was found in a dumpster not two streets away.'

Another body? That- what? Why? How? Was it before or after the girl in the apartment? Annabeth snapped back to reality to just catch Dodds reply.

'No,' she seemed to have said. 'Not the Spotless Killer. Not anymore. Killers evolve. They try and improve new methods. To find the best that works for them. This isn't the Spotless Killer anymore. This is Cain. He is essentially a new person altogether.

'Do not treat this like the same killer.' She looked to the Chief. 'He evolved. Anything you think you know about the Spotless Killer is now useless. He is Cain now. And nothing else.'

Annabeth was waiting for the Chief's reply when a stack of papers landed loudly on her desk, making her jump. She whipped to the front of her desk to find Percy Jackson, looking better than he had that same morning.

"I have the spatter patterns you wanted." His hair was still wet and his green eyes were brighter than they had been when he ran out of the crime scene two hours ago. He had changed clothes, now having a pair of blue jeans and an NYU sweatshirt. Drops of water still hung to his skin, making streaks along his neck and cheeks.

"Where did you run off to?" She questioned. Percy stared at her for a second, his eyes glazing over as he thought of something before he answered.

"Sorry about that. I left my stove on and I was pretty sure my apartment was flooding." She scrutinized over his face, looking for any sign of him lying. She found none. He was telling the truth.

"Whatever," she muttered, no longer interested in his personal life. She turned back to the window of Ms. Dodds office only to find the occupants gone. She looked around wildly before catching a glimpse of short, cropped blond hair disappearing around the corner into another hallway heading away from the hub of activity.

Suddenly angry about losing the three, Annabeth turned to yell at Jackson for distracting her- only to see that he wasn't there. She scanned the room, and seeing no sign of him, sighed and turned her attention to the documents on her desk. She flipped through them, looking at the pictures and descriptions of the way the girl in the apartment died.

She couldn't help but commemorate Jackson on his detailed report.

 **Line Break 2**

 _"Welcome back, viewers, to News 13," the anchor greeted with a grim smile. He ran a hand through his short blond hair. "The Spotless Killer- now known as Cain, after his first message to the police after two years of silence- has killed again. Four bodies were found inside a diner on 32nd and 4th, uptown near another crime scene found two days ago just two streets away._

 _"We go to Jean, who's on scene now." The scene changed to a girl with curly red hair holding a microphone to her mouth and a crowd in the background, surrounding a building that had red block letters spelling out 'DINER' above the entrance._

 _"Thanks, sir," Jean says as she smiles the same grim smile as the anchor did. "Reports are that at nine thirty-seven this morning, waitress Hazel Levesque opened the diner she worked at only to find not the smell of cooking burgers, but the smell of death. It seemed that Cain, as police are now calling him, left not one but four bodies inside the diner, mutilated and dead._

 _"Police are currently on scene, including FBI Profiler Alecto Dodds," Jean continued. "Ms. Dodds currently has an impeccable record and hopes to find a definite personality for Cain- Wait..." Jean put a hand to her ear, her eyes widening as she listened to whatever was being spoken into her ear._

 _The reporter turned back to the camera and whipped her hair behind her ear. "Word just in, another body was found in an alley halfway between here and the apartment previously mentioned. It seems as though Cain went on a killing spree two days ago, the body count ending in a total of seven bodies." Jean glances back at the diner just in time to see Alecto Dodds come out of the front door. "Ms. Dodds!" Jean cried, garnering her attention from the other reporters._

 _The Profiler turned her attention to the redhead who was being followed by the camera. "Ms. Dodds," Jean continued, "is there anything you can tell us about Cain to help ease the public? To make them feel secure?"_

 _"Nothing definitive yet," she replied. "The 11th Precinct will hold a press conference as soon as we confer. But as soon as we have anything, we will share it with the public." Ms. Dodds turned away and started walking away, Detective Luke Castellan and Detective Annabeth Chase following behind her._

 _"Detectives." Jean called. "Do you have anything to say to the public or Cain- if he is watching this?"_

 _Detective Castellan looked in the camera. "I want to remind the public that for as long as Cain is out there, to never go anywhere alone, lock your doors and windows, and always be on the lookout for suspicious activity."_

 _"And as for Cain," Detective Chase interrupted. "You can be sure as hell that we'll find you, and put you where you can never kill an innocent soul ever again." She gave a glare before spinning on her heel and walking after Detective Castellan and Ms. Dodds._

 _Jean turned back to the camera. "There you have it, New Yorkers. Stay tuned for more at News 13. Back to the Hub."_

 _The blond anchor reappeared on the screen at his desk. "Thank you, Jean. And thank you Precinct 11, for your determination and contribution to finding and apprehending Cain." He forced a smile and spoke in a faux cheery voice, "This is Jason Grace, thanking you for your time."_

Despite himself, Percy couldn't help but scowl as he pressed the power button of the TV. He was back at the station, three hours after News 13 aired the Diner Segment. The eleven o'clock moon was rising and most of the officers of the 11th Precinct had gone home. Only leaving hardcore detectives, night shift officers, Silena the receptionist, and Alecto Dodds.

Percy felt himself give off a slight growl as he thought of the old woman. He couldn't help it. There was something dark about her. Not as dark as him or any of the other killers he'd met in New York, but still dark enough for Percy to recognize. Enough darkness for Percy to at least be wary of.

He didn't like her. It wasn't just that she reminded him of an old high school teacher he used to have or that she didn't let him in on the meetings, but rather it was the way she looked at him. Like she knew him and his secrets. As though he was devil spawn.

There were stares as well. She'd stare at him as he passed her, having a calculating look in her eyes, often in the hallways or from across the room. He could see a look in her eyes. The look of distrust. But there is no way she knows. She would have told someone or everyone by now.

He wasn't being paranoid. Not really. He knew that she knew something she wasn't supposed to. That she _knew._ Of course he couldn't know that for sure at that moment. But it wasn't so much knowledge than it was a feeling. The unsettling feeling that he had whenever he was being watched. It was the same feeling he had when he thought Nico knew. He was right to trust his gut.

So that was what he was going to do now. It didn't matter that he was in the police station. It didn't matter that he had to get rid of three cops to turn off the cameras in the surveillance room. And it didn't matter he was on a time limit until Alecto Dodds left the building and into the parking garage.

The cold serrated steel of his knife pressed against his back as he made his way to the small room on an upper floor. They always had three people on surveillance. They switched on six hour shifts. And it was always rookies who ended up being put on camera duty. It was an important job but newbies didn't see it.

They wouldn't see anything at all in a few minutes.

Percy put a practiced care-free look on his face as he slid the knife into his jacket sleeve for easy access. He pulled a random coffee from a random desk and acted like he had just taken a sip of it when he opened the door to the small room filled with monitors. He grimaced a bit. The coffee was black.

The room was dark; just how he liked it. Three swivel chairs were facing the same direction, away from him and towards the many screens that covered the large desk. The officers in the room were the same. Two boys, one girl. The girl was pretty too, but it wasn't the time for that. He hated to waste this opportunity but it had to be done. It was either her or his identity.

He smiled a little broader when they turned to him, immediately putting them at ease. He could see it in their muscles. In the flexing jaws. In their eyes, warm and welcoming, that they knew him. Recognized him as a cop. As a person who wouldn't do a thing to them because Percy Jackson was that easy going of a guy. Cain, on the other hand...

"Hey guys," Percy greeted. They said hi back and they started making idle chat for a minute. Until Percy noticed the time. Alecto Dodds would be out of the precinct to go to her heavily guarded apartment in a few minutes. "Sorry guys but I'm going to have to make it quick. I got to catch Dodds before she leaves. Can't have her telling everyone I'm Cain."

The laughter that had been there previously stopped abruptly. There was the look on their faces. The one that asked if he was joking or not. Instead of answering, Percy dropped the coffee into the nearby trash can and his knife slid from his sleeve into his hand. It wasn't large, barely the size of his palm, the legal size to have a knife on him.

The officers stared at the knife with ashen faces, something Percy had grown used to when he killed someone he knew. A target he spent a week or so getting to know. Percy sighed as he saw the girl look up to him with hope and disbelief in her eyes. She had hoped that what he was saying wasn't true, he could see it in her eyes. He liked her too. But he also liked not going to prison.

Percy slowly closed the door behind him, seeing the light in their eyes, the hope and disbelief, extinguish.

 **Line Break 3**

Annabeth plopped down in her chair, exhausted from having to do reports all day. News 13 had aired the piece on the Diner Killings four times since they had released it. Annabeth really hadn't known how he had done it; she didn't know how Cain had killed all of those people in the diner. The diner was on a crowded street, essentially only blocks from the crime scene, and no one had noticed that it was closed, devoid of noise, or that the lights were on.

How oblivious do people in New York have to be? There is a killer on the loose and they act as though nothing strange is happening. Granted that _Cain_ has been killing for several years now, people shouldn't be calm or expect this to happen.

That was another thing she didn't get. _Cain._ After two years, the first message is about his name? If he took two years to come up with a name, then he wasn't at all the killer Ms. Dodds thought he was.

Annabeth sighed as she absently reached for her coffee. Except, it wasn't there. Her coffee was missing. She groaned. If she was going to be doing more reports all night, the least people could do was leave her black coffee alone.

That was when she noticed it. When she got up to go to the kitchen, she noticed the camera room ajar. It wasn't supposed to be open, but she wasn't surprised that the new officers put on camera duty were slacking off. Determined to put them in their place, she stalked over to the room.

"Get up off your asses," she reprimanded. "You know you can't leave the door open."

She didn't get a response. At first she assumed they were all sleeping in their swivel chairs. But when she turned on the light, she nearly screamed. The glass of their eyes were shining and she could see her reflection in them. Blood soaked the floor but she barely noticed that the red liquid were soaking through the sneakers she had put on to remain comfortable. The girl was nearly decapitated, her vocal cords gone. The boys were gutted with their intestines decorating their chairs.

The monitors were off and the hard drives where they kept the tapes was beat to death, circuits jutting out of the frame and the drive itself gone.

"F..." One of the officers was still alive. She stifled a scream and instead turned her head to listen to his blood soaked words. "B... I..."

FBI? But that's...

"Alecto," Annabeth breathed. Annabeth rushed out the door, running to Silena at the reception table. "Silena! Call everyone. Cain's in the building!" Silena didn't bother letting her shock take over before she was already holding a walkie and speaking into it. Annabeth ran to the elevator, feeling the blood that soaked into her shoes make that _scrunch_ as she landed on each foot.

The elevator was impossibly slow. Annabeth waited, listening to music that didn't make much sense. She thought it was Korean Pop, but she couldn't be sure. The moment the elevator _dinged_ on the parking garage, she could already hear the sirens of her fellow officers racing to catch Cain.

She ran in the direction she knew Alecto's car was, not stopping to look where she was going until she started hearing voices. She slowed to an almost stop, knowing that if she made a sound now, she could have just jeopardized everything. Luckily the people talking didn't seem to hear her. Annabeth leaned closer, taking the cover of the concrete pillar supporting the building, to listen to the conversation.

"...did you know I was Cain?" Said a voice. It was different but familiar all the same. It was soft, velvety... practiced. There was a tone in his voice, like he was only saying the truth and nothing else. That she could always believe he was telling the truth.

"Is that really brought you down here?" Annabeth heard Alecto ask. Her voice was tight, not as aloof as it once was. She was scared.

"Alecto, Alecto, Alecto," Cain said. Annabeth could practically hear the feral grin he had in place. "Would I come down here to know how? No... I came to kill you before you can put your _theory_ out there to the fine officers of Precinct 11."

"You will be caught on camera," Alecto stated. Annabeth felt her heart sink as she remembered what had happened.

"I wouldn't rely too heavily on Precinct 11's ability to keep camera footage alive." Cain laughed. It was merciless and evil. "Besides... you have a lot on your plate right now."

"Wha-" Alecto was cut off as there was some scuffling and suddenly it all stopped. Annabeth risked a peek to see Alecto with a knife through her stomach, the point coming out of her tan blouse.

"I am sorry about this Alecto." Cain actually sounded remorseful. "Cops and FBI agents... Never mind. You don't need to hear my life story. But you do need to know that I didn't kill the woman in that apartment. That was someone else. And I'll find out who."


End file.
